Bejewell on January 14th, 2011

3:15am Deep sleep. I am in heaven. My job does not exist and I spend my days on a beach lounging hand-in-hand with Matt Damon and engaging in something called “couples massage.” Husband watches jealously while collecting dirty towels.

3:30am Feel hot breath on my face.  After a moment, realize this is not the warm, gentle Caribbean breeze. Open eyes. Large toddler face looms two inches away.

Flight response. Jump and shriek. Child accidentally smacked in face.

3:31am Console child, now crying and holding eye. “Mommy, you’re mean!  I DON’T LIKE YOU MOMMY!”

Husband snores loudly.

3:34am Child insists he can only find true comfort in the arms of Ariel, the plastic figurine he found weeks ago on the floor at Old Navy and his current fixation.  En route to his room, child offers a complete missing persons report.  “She has red hair… blue panties… and blue shoes.”

3:42am After exhaustive search, Ariel is found.

Relieved, install child in his bed and attempt to leave.  Child follows.

3:44am Return child to his bed. Child refuses. Child is no longer happy. “DON’T LEAVE ME THERE’S GONNA BE A MONSTER!”  “PLEEEEEEEEEZZZE!!!  MOMMY PLEEEEEEEEZZZE DON’T LEAVE ME!!!”

3:46am Mutter, under breath, “Fuck it.”  “WHATDIDYOUSAY MOMMY WHATDIDYOUSAY??”  Explain to child that Mommy thought she saw a bucket. Ignore follow-up questions. Return to bedroom.  Allow child to follow.

3:50am Once in bed with husband, child falls immediately into deep sleep.  Husband’s snoring is epic in volume and interrupted only by occasional, indecipherable muttering. “Argh thars nar jeerargh”

3:55am Close eyes and attempt to ignore loud husband noises, as well as child’s now-incessant kicking to lower back area.  Try desperately to recapture Matt Damon.

3: 57am Open eyes.

4:00am “Did we remember to close the garage door?”

4:15am “Did I put that last load in the dryer?”

4:37am “What is the thermostat on?”

5:05am “I’m thirsty.”

5:59am Finally begin to drift off.  Impossibly blue Caribbean seas stretch out before me.  Matt is rubbing suntan oil on my shoulders and he leans over to kis—


Accidentally on purpose hit “off” button instead of snooze.


6:15am Make out with Matt Damon.

6:45am Matt suddenly pulls his tongue out and asks, “Shouldn’t you be at work?”  Wake with a jolt.

6:46am Run to bathroom. 15 minutes to get ready, or I will miss my traffic window. Husband and child do not wake.

Wash face. Brush teeth, frantically.

6:52am Realize hair is dirty and there is no time to shower.  Wash bangs only. Pull rest of hair into ratty bun on top of head. Pretend not to notice three-inch roots.

6:57am Moisturize. Make-up. Accidentally stab self in eye with mascara wand. Again.

7:01am Grab discarded clothes from floor and throw them onto body.  No time to change socks or underwear.

Traffic window now missed.

7:04am Conduct search for other boot. Look everywhere.  Child and husband are now awake, sitting up in bed, watching cartoons.  Stifle feelings of deep resentment.

7:11am Locate boot under child’s bed. Why? I do not know.

Child and husband now eating Cocoa Puffs and snuggling in bed.  Give goodbye hugs and kisses to both. Do not express bitter hostility.

7:12am Start car. Realize eyeglasses are missing.  Run back to house. Front door locked. Knock on door, inciting angry barks from dogs.  Wait in cold. Shiver.

7:14am Husband opens door in boxer shorts, with sleep still in his eyes.  Looks disheveled and annoyed.  With great effort, refrain from punching husband in face.

Conduct frenzied search for glasses while useless husband watches, scratching balls.

7:21am Finally locate glasses on back of toilet in guest bath. Why? No idea.

7:22am Run back out to car. Get in and realize gym bag is still inside. Shout, “FUCK THIS FUCKING GODDAMNED FUCKING SHIT!!!!!” No gym today.

7:23am Back out of driveway.  Look down and realize gas tank is empty. Cry.

7:30am Arrive at gas station. Debit card does not work. See attendant.  Debit card works.  Return to car.  Fillerup. Freeze.

Now officially late for work.

7:37am Back in car. On road. Enter major thoroughfare to find massive traffic delays. Realize iPod is on kitchen counter at home. Turn on radio. Morning radio personalities discuss leg shaving and angry stay-at-home dads.  Turn off radio.

7:48am Have traveled .75 miles.  Phone rings. Husband angrily demands to know where child’s other glove is.  Look on floor of passenger’s side. Locate missing glove.

Cry. Hang up on husband.

7:58am Phone rings. Boss is wondering where I am. Make lame excuse and hang up. Cry.

8:27am Walk into office building, which smells like farts.

Welcome to the day.

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25 Responses to “At Least My Bangs Are Clean.”

  1. Oy to the vey. Makes me glad I’m working from home with small child poking my laptop and messing up my editing.

  2. How do you wash JUST your bangs?

  3. The eyes. You had me at the eyes.

    Also, you beat me. I didn’t make it to work until 9:30 this morning.

  4. I’m sorry, I’m laughing so much I have tears in my eyes. Especially your “I’m thirsty” pic. I’m only laughing because, seriously, I’ve done this. DUDE.

  5. I’m still sitting here wondering what the hell you ate before bed that led to such an awesome dream – albeit horribly interrupted.

  6. Holy shit…he had the audacity to scratch his balls while you’re in a wild sweaty panic??? I would have ripped them off!

    It’s the worst feeling ever…those late mornings…plus, Matt didn’t get to finish and I’m sure you only care about his satisfaction, right?

  7. Your bangs look nice so extra step in your morning was totally worth it

  8. I’m sorry to laugh at your pain, but man, I really needed a laugh today.

    Hope your weekend is stellar improvement!

  9. Oh, the eyes.

    the perfect owly eyes.

    Thank you for this.

    And I’ll replace Matt Damon with Benecio Deltoro, thank you…just sexier that way.

  10. Did it get better?

  11. Ha! I mean I’m so sorry your day got off to a bad start. :)

  12. For what it’s worth (totally not arse-kissing), you looked fantastic despite your hurried morning. I officially hate you. And your bangs.

  13. The eyes made me CACKLE.

    You so funny. SO FUNNY.

  14. That was beyond hilarious…so glad I stumbled upon it!

  15. The very worst kind of best dreams are the ones where you wake up just before the kissing starts and then you desperately try to get back to sleep to recapture the magic. I love/hate those. My bangs send you deep sympathies.

  16. A) Your bangs look FAH-BEW-LUS.

    B) I’m moderately horrified that you look quite similar to Sarah Palin.

    C) That’s ok because you still look librarian-hot.

  17. Hilarious! See you at the movies:)

  18. I have officially experienced “love at first read!”
    You are terrific! I read every word and giggled my way through…even before I got to the word ‘fart’!

  19. You pulled a Clark Kent ’cause you looked SUPER!

  20. ‘Conduct frenzied search for glasses while useless husband watches, scratching balls.’

    Feeling your pain.

    And done that just wash the fringe (we don’t call ‘em bangs ‘ere) far too many times.

  21. I am the Zen Master of washing bangs only!

    Welcome to my club.

    There is a nominal fee for membership, but our mascot in an Ariel Owl! Please to enjoy!


  22. Wait, you can wash just your BANGS? I just made mornings like this a thing of the past for me!

    (No, not really.)

  23. Do you know how many weird looks I’ve gotten from people when I tell them I’ve done a bangs-only wash job? Why is it so perplexing? It’s like the mullet of shampooing—-with more brilliance. Plus, it’s eco-friendly. Win. Win.

    And, OMG, the resentment of a husband still in bed. Nothing compares.

  24. But to add insult to injury he whines “why are you up? it’s not even light yet, the sparrows haven’t even farted…come back to bed….”
    Get thee behind me Beelzebub!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    (nice bangs btw)

  25. Very Funny. Where was Matt’s tongue? OMG, What a surreal dream. The smell of farts in the office, lol.

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